Beacon Hill Werewolf Mafia
by lianglan88
Summary: "Well… that was weird." "You mean the part where a bunch of teen werewolves hunted us down, hogtied us like a bunch of amateurs, dragged us to a police station,
1. Chapter 1

Fuck this kid was fast. Dean crashed through the woods, chasing a figure just far enough ahead to make it impossible to get a sure shot. Why didn't he grab the rifle? This would be far less exhausting if he just opted for the long range option, but no, he went for subtlety.

Dean knew Sam had a shotgun and was somewhere off to his right. In the brief moment after hearing a howl off the side of the road, Dean signaled to Sam to go long to flank their prey. They'd been chasing the wolf half way up the Californian coast, following a string of 'strange animal deaths'. It wasn't getting away this time, Dean pushed his legs faster, there wasn't going to be another dead body.

When Dean saw a flash of blond hair off to his left, he felt his gut drop out. He realized too late that this was a trap, cursing himself and trying to swerve to the right -

Something fell on him from above and he crashed to the forest floor, hard. Even with the air knocked out of his lungs, Dean managed to keep his grip on his pistol and tried to roll over to dislodge whatever hand jumped on him. He got a snarl for his trouble and a horrible pain when a knee drove into his back. He went still.

"Drop it," a low, feminine voice said.

Dean heard a distant gunshot and tried to get up again. A clawed hand gripped the wrist of the hand still clinging to his handgun and Dean grunted when he felt the bones crack. His hand let go of the gun.

"Wow!" A young male voice called out nearby, huffing a little bit. "That was awesome!"

"Stiles… get the gun and give me the cuffs," the girl perched on Dean's back said, clearly not impressed.

"Fine, fine." A bare human foot kicked the gun farther away from Dean's grip and a hand followed to pick it up. "You need to learn to celebrate the little things in life, Ana. Like how perfect that worked out just now." Dean heard some rustling and the sound of metal moving. He felt the cold of the cuffs against his wrists, and couldn't help wince when they were tightened to the point of pain even on his uninjured hand.

"We're not out of the woods yet, Stiles." The girl, Ana, said. Her tone didn't betray any sense of humor, but from the snicker Dean heard he guessed it was not missed by Stiles. "Erica?"

"When you stage-dived she ran off in the other direction, towards the shot," Stiles said, humor slipping from his voice.

Ana said nothing for a moment, but Dean felt the weight on his back shift. "You better hope that was a miss," Ana said icily. "Ok, get him covered," Ana told Stiles.

"Aye-aye, comrade." Dean's limited view of the forest floor was completely blacked out when dark piece of cloth was looped over his head. "Alright, up on your feet old man!"

"Old man?" Dean said, indignant. He was hoisted up none-to-gently.

"Oh so he _can_ talk!" Stiles said.

"Stop teasing the prisoner, Stiles." Dean dug in his heels when he was nudged to walk.

"Are you seriously gonna play this game?" Stiles asked in disbelief. "Don't make me say it."

"Please don't, he'll enjoy it too much," Ana muttered.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Stiles said, his voice steel.

Dean heard Ana make an exasperated sigh and tug of the cuffs behind Dean's back, shooting pain up his arms. "I wouldn't test her, man. She'd drag you outta here by those cuffs. She's had a hard day."

In the end, Dean ended up stumbling out of the woods. Stiles lead the way, occasionally pausing. Finally, Dean tripped against something solid and found his feet on solid, even ground. He heard a car door creak open and was shoved up into the back seat of some kind of SUV, judging by how high he had to step up to get it. He heard a muffled conversation before the doors opened up front.

"You're driving test is tomorrow, you need the practice," Stiles said from the direction of the passenger seat. Dean heard a seat belt click into place.

"I'd really like you to not remind me," Ana muttered, shutting the driver's side door. "I'm gonna fail it."

"Nonsense! You've had the _best_ teacher."

Ana snorted, "don't toot your own horn."

"Yes! Car puns!" The vehicle bounced slightly. As the engine growled to a start, Dean wondered what fresh hell he was in and what had he done to deserve this.

* * *

Dean was going to be sick. He didn't want to believe it, but knew that the steady tide of nausea wasn't going to dissipate at this point. He fell over when the vehicle jerked and swallowed hard.

"Don't you dare vomit in my car," Stiles called. "Now, Ana, maybe instead of speeding up and slamming on the breaks when you approach a stop light, you could try gradually coming to a stop?" Stiles suggested.

"That's not what I'm doing?" Ana asked, her voice a tiny squeak.

"Not really. Ok, gotta turn right so-" there was a screech of brakes followed by a nearly ninety degree turn that sent Dean off the back seat and knocked him against something hard, and blissfully out of consciousness.

* * *

"Huh. Well, that was better!" Stiles said, genuinely impressed.

"Stiles I knocked him out," Ana whispered, letting go of the jeep's steering wheel.

"True, but hey nobody important or innocent got hurt!"

"I hit the stop sign."

"A mere love-tap. Also, you remembered to stop when you hit it, so there's that."

Ana groaned and slid out of the driver's seat. She strongly considered canceling her test tomorrow as she opened the back door and pulled the unconscious form out. God this guy was a freaking giant. "Stiles, can you help me with this?"

"Sure, just get the doors will you?" Stiles reached down and hoisted the hunter up.


	2. Chapter 2

"...got the other one. Took some extra help from Erica, Jackson got shot," a haughty female voice was saying when Dean started to come around. He could tell the hood was removed, but tried to not to move. He strained to listen. "He's coming around, I'll go get Ms. McCall."

Dean internally sighed, the gig was up. He opened his eyes only a little to test how hard he'd been knocked out. The light was low, somewhere directly over his head so it didn't hurt too much as he started to take stock of his surroundings. He heard a door open and shut, but knew he wasn't completely alone.

It didn't take long for his eyes to adjust, a good sign. He doubted that he had an actual concussion, also good. He was cuffed still and sitting in a chair. His legs were restrained. He let his eyes travel up and found he was sitting before a table, the chair opposite empty. If he didn't know any better Dean would say he was in an interrogation room at a police station. You've been in one you've been in all of them.

Dean groaned as he straightened up because the movement jerked his injured wrist. Nothing too horrible really, probably not broken, but it still hurt. Dean glanced around and found he was not alone afterall. Across the room, in a corner by the only door, a girl was sitting at a small table. She wasn't looking at Dean, instead she was writing away in a notebook and occasionally glancing at other papers.

What surprised him was her age. He blinked a few times, thinking to clear his eyes to see better, but realized his gaze was true. She looked no older than fifteen or sixteen. He watched her in disbelief. She continued to scribble away like sitting in an interrogation room with a man in cuffs was just another Tuesday night.

He cleared his throat. No reaction. "Hey," he said, casually, like starting a perfectly normal conversation. Nothing. She kept glancing back and forth between papers, ignoring him. Dean didn't like to be ignored. He needed information, needed to find out as much as he could about Sam and figure out what he was dealing with. Just because he was the one bound up in an interrogation room didn't mean he couldn't do some of his own interrogation.

He spent another moment gathering his thoughts and observing. The girl was short, her feet barely reaching the ground in the chair she was sitting in. She had wide hips, a nearly flat chest, and despite her somewhat petite figure, Dean could see she was all lean muscle. She was wearing male basketball shorts, a wifebeater, and a camo zip up hoodie, mostly unzipped. Everything she wore was too big for her frame, making her look even smaller. She was wearing borrowed clothes, Dean realized. The only thing that seemed to fit her were the simple tennis shoes on her feet. Everything else looked like guys' clothing. Dean could've mistaken her for a guy from a distance, but her face and figure was still somehow feminine. Her hair was short, but that was a thing with girls nowadays. Her face was round but her features were distinct.

"So… come here often?" Dean began, aiming for dorky charm. "My name's Dean." He might've imagined it, but there was a slight pause in the girl's body language. Before Dean could press, however, the door suddenly opened.

"Oh good, he doesn't look nearly as banged up as the other one," the woman said as she shut the door behind her. She was older, probably ten years older than Dean himself. She was pretty, her hair long, dark, and wavy and her eyes were kind. She radiated 'mom' like nobody's business. "He was knocked out?"

The girl nodded, not looking up. "Well let's take a look." The woman crossed over to him, pulling out a pen light. Dean gave her his best smile when she came over and did as he was told when she ran through the basic concussion check. "Looks fine. Anything else?"

"My wrist might be fractured," Dean said.

"Oh?" The woman turned slightly to glance at the girl, who shrugged. "Ok, I'll take a look." Dean thought that she was going to take off the cuffs to examine his wrist, but didn't. "Yeah, this'll need to be set. Can you help me out?"

The girl got up, nodding. She went around to where the woman was and Dean felt small hands gently placed on his wrist. "How did this happen?" the woman asked, her voice a bit stern.

"I asked him to drop the gun, he didn't," the girl responded.

Dean's eyes went wide, this was… "that was you?!"

"Hm, well, on three then."

"Wait, what?" Dean felt the hands tighten on his, he heard three and bit down hard when the bone was pulled and re-set.

* * *

The woman left, leaving Dean alone with the girl. It took a good long moment for Dean to process that this girl had brought him down like it was nothing. "How… what?" Dean shifted in the confines of his chair, trying to ignore the new pain in his wrist. He leaned forward, "what are you?" he asked.

Ana finally looked at him, unimpressed. "You're not a very good hunter are you? Don't even know what you're chasing after in the woods with a gun?" She glared at him, and Dean gritted his teeth when he saw her eyes flash an unnatural gold.


	3. Chapter 3

Ana sat down at the small desk and proceeded to ignore Dean. He leaned back, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He needed information. It was time for some answers.

"Where's the other one, Stiles?" Ana flipped a page over, reading the contents. "How's his jeep? You must've done a number on it." An annoyed flicker of a glance was all Dean got in response.

The door opened and Dean saw another teen come in. "Hey, Ana, everything ok in here?" he asked, watching Dean.

"Yeah, just fine, Boyd. How's Jackson?" Ana asked, looking up.

The black teen shrugged and handed Ana a tupperware container, "Deaton and Ms. McCall are still working on him. It wasn't a direct hit but the brother had silver laced bird shot. They're working on getting all the shrapnel out."

"Silver?" Ana raised her eyebrows.

The black kid nodded, crossing his arms. "Just silver. Deaton thinks once it's all out Jackson'll be fine."

Ana let out a breath of relief, "good. That jerk needs to be in good condition so we can kick his ass."

Boyd smiled and nodded. "The brother though isn't looking so good." Dean's breath hitched, and two pairs of eyes flickered over to him. "Lydia slipped in and between her and Stiles…" Boyd let his voice trail off ominously.

Ana opened up the dish Boyd gave her a few moments ago and picked out a fork from her backpack by her feet. "Eh, serves him right. Running around shooting people in the woods. Did you get some?" Ana pointed at the food.

Boyd shifted a little and frowned. He was definitely an athlete, maybe a football player, Dean observed. Despite his size and obvious strength, his body language betrayed a quiet personality. "Ms. Sonya asked me if I wanted some but I ate already."

"Oh, and how'd that go?" Ana snickered when Boyd asked what a shtukaturka is. "Don't worry about it. If she gives you food just take it."

"Hey, big guy. What did you mean earlier, about my brother?" Dean broke in.

Boyd turned slightly, giving him an even look. "For a prisoner he talks too much," he said, addressing Ana.

"I completely agree," Ana retorted and took a bite of her food.

"Listen you snot nosed punks, either tell me where my brother is or send in someone who will."

Boyd glared, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest. Ana, however, didn't take the bait. She placed a gentle hand on Boyd's arm and he calmed down. Dean looked pleased. He wasn't sure if the kid was one of… whatever Ana and Stiles were, but he just confirmed it. So far, three of them. He could take three.

"Can you do me a favor?" Ana asked Boyd, "can you ask Lydia to come over? I need some help. Also, duct tape." Boyd smiled, giving her a knowing look. He left the room.

"What's the duct tape for?" Dean asked.

"For people unable to sit quietly and wait."

Dean narrowed his eyes. Ana went back to her papers. "Wait for what?" Ana brought her pen to her lips, pursing them and once more became enraptured in whatever it was she was doing, occasionally taking a bite of her dinner. Dean's stomach growled despite himself.

* * *

"Oh my god, why are there so many kids in a police station?" Dean cried out as a pretty strawberry blond stepped through the door. She threw the most icy glare Dean had ever seen and turned to Ana, holding of a roll of duct tape.

"Well?" she asked, as Ana grabbed the tape and thumped it on her desk.

Ana shifted in her seat and bit her lip. She sighed and tapped the paper in front of her, "I just don't get number twenty two." Dean stared in disbelief as the other girl, decked in a cute skirt and form fitting blouse rolled her eyes and bent down to look at the sheet.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me. Who does homework during an interrogation?!"

"Unless you have something useful to say about differentials, shut up," Ana said, not looking at him. Dean groaned. The new girl proceeded to explain the problem, taking the pen and writing out the steps. Ana occasionally chewed her lip and frowned, and shook her head when asked if she got it.

"Really, Ana? Ok, it's like this-" Dean moaned, his body language declaring he was bored and when he went to talk again, the new girl was walking over to the table in front of him. Once she was closer, Dean saw her blouse was splattered here and there with small amount of blood. "Do you have something to say? Go ahead, I'm all ears."

"Who's blood is that?" Dean asked, leaning forward and tilting his head up.

"Lydia," Ana said, her voice sympathetic but beseeching.

Lydia narrowed her eyes and Dean could see her body shaking with fury. "You're very lucky she's here. You're also very lucky your brother, Sam is his name right? He missed my boyfriend." Lydia straightened up and brushed absently at her skirt. She walked over to Ana and told the shorter girl she just needed to follow the steps, and left.

* * *

"Listen, I don't know what they've told you but they're dangerous!" Sam was leaning forward, straining against the handcuffs.

The deputy was unfazed. "Sir, hold still. If you don't cooperate I'll not hesitate to restrain you more despite your injuries."

Sam sighed, sinking back into his chair. The deputy placed an ink pad to his index finger and took his prints and left. He was alone for a moment, and he took a deep breath, taking stock of his injuries. Nothing too bad, he concluded. A lady came in earlier and bandaged the cut on his forehead and checked him over. He slumped down and glanced at the one way mirror, wondering if anyone was on the other side.

The door opened and a Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as a tall, somewhat lanky teen walked in like he owned the place and pulled out the chair opposite of Sam. He sat down, propped his chin in his hands and stared at Sam. The kid was wearing worn jeans and a flannel shirt open to reveal a dirty undershirt. Sam took in the kid discreetly and watched him back.

The kid appeared to be spacing out, but in a flash of movement was suddenly leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. Sam glanced to the one way mirror and back at the kid. He was tapping his foot now and frowning. Sam raised his eyebrows as the kid leaned forward again and looked like he was going to say something. The kid sighed and ran both his hands through his hair and down his face, and back up through his hair, making it stick up comically. Sam waited, body tense.

"You made a big mistake shooting him," the kid said finally, like he couldn't contain words anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you sure about this?" Scott asked, watching Ana glare at Dean from the other side of the one way mirror.

Derek stood next to him, observing the other room closely. "Yeah, why?"

"Don't you think it's a bit soon after those other hunters?" Scott asked, glancing sideways to the other alpha.

Derek waited to respond. The hunter's body language was open and cocky, clearly believing he was in control. Ana appeared irritated, but quite eager to let the hunter think what he wanted to think. "No. She can handle this."

"I still don't think this is a good situation for her."

Derek didn't take his eyes off the scene in the other room. "You know none of the others would keep calm like that. Look at him, he's deliberately instigating everyone who goes in. Even Lydia snapped at him."

"I hate to admit it, but Derek's right," Chris said, entering the room.

"Any word on who these guys are?" Scott asked.

"Deputy Parrish is still processing the prints of the first guy, but I may have an idea," the hunter said. "How's she doing?" The concern in Chris's voice surprised Derek, but he continued to focus on the room.

"She's not falling for the trap," Derek said with a slight smile.

"She may not be, but flail-wolf is going right to town," Chris pointed out, nodding to the other one way mirror. Scott turned and groaned at what he saw; Stiles leaning forward, eagerly talking to a bewildered hunter. Derek turned and rolled his eyes at the sight of his boyfriend gesturing wildly in the other holding room.

* * *

"You want to know something?" Dean asked.

"Please don't enlighten me," Ana replied.

"You're not very good at questioning or interrogation," Dean continued with a smirk.

"Who said I was trying?"

Dean's smirk wavered, "why else would I be in a police station holding room?"

"To be questioned."

"Exactly so why-"

"Do you want to know something? You talk far too much for someone in your situation," Ana put down her pen and looked at Dean like he was an annoying two year old asking 'why' after everything. Dean grinned, finally getting somewhere.

"And what situation is that? What am I dealing with exactly? Why are a bunch of monsters pretending to be kids holding us up in a police station?"

"You don't know why you're here or what you're after. You don't know and you're fishing, poorly, for answers. You're hoping to annoy me or make me angry enough to slip up," Ana stood up and crossed the room with a deceptively blank expression. "Calling me a monster doesn't make me one."

Dean gaped. She called him out, she'd known this whole time what he'd been trying to do. He was being duped, again, by this girl. "So, you caught me."

"Literally, yes. Now, I'm giving you one more chance to wait patiently, quietly."

"Or what, kid?"

"Or," she leaned in close, whispering into his ear, "I ask you what kind of monster you are. You reek like a corpse. Underneath your human scent you stink of graves and decay." Dean's eyes went wide and his stomach dropped.

* * *

Deputy Parrish opened the door, ink pad in hand, and found an unexpected sight. Ana was sitting at the small desk he'd brought in for her earlier, frowning at her calculus homework. What surprised him was that the other suspect's mouth was duct taped and he was humming obnoxiously.

"Ana?"

"Hm?"

"Care to explain?"

"Oh. He wouldn't shut up." The deputy gave her an incredulous look. "I gave him plenty of warnings."

Parrish shook his head and went over to get fingerprints. "You must be a very trying man, she doesn't lose patience easily." Finished, he turned to Ana. "Shouldn't be much longer. Chris has a theory and the Sheriff is almost done, too."

* * *

"So why a silver shell?" Stiles asked, leaning forward, eyes narrowing.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed and he leaned back instinctively, trying to figure out what to say. "You don't know what he is?"

"He's a bit of a dick and has some real confidence issues, but still," Stiles shrugged, "why silver?"

Sam went out on a limb, let his voice drop. "He's a werewolf."

"Duh, yes, well established. Why silver though, I mean, that's a bit archaic and outdated? What were you hoping to accomplish?" Stiles said, tapping the table with one hand.

"You… know he's a werewolf? Then you know he's dangerous, he could hurt or kill people," Sam said, staring the kid down.

"That hasn't been a problem for over a year." Stiles waved a hand dismissively. "Stop avoiding my question."

"Why should I answer to a kid?"

Stiles glanced to the one way mirror and when he responded his voice was barely a whisper, "because I'm you're only shot getting out of here alive. They've got you're brother. So if you want the two of you to walk outta here, you answer whatever questions I ask."

Sam's jaw clenched. He was hoping Dean had escaped, but judging by the earnest tone of the kid, Sam felt he wasn't lying. "So, you were running through the woods after a werewolf and shooting silver, why?"

Sam took a deep breath. He felt like he had no other choice so he shuffled in his seat as well as he could and watched the kid. "We were following a string of weird animal maulings up the Californian coast." Stiles nodded, his face grave. "The last death was about 50 miles south of here, and we were following the trail north. We almost caught him in Wells Spring, but he got away. We pulled over because we had a flat tire-"

"Lie."

Sam blinked, startled by the blatant accusation. "What?"

"That last bit is a lie. Don't even try lying," Stiles reclined in the chair and folded his arms across his chest, fading a bit out of the light directly above them. "Why did you pull over at the edge of Beacon Hills?"

Sam went quiet, feeling too late that he'd stumbled into a trap. His mind worked quickly, trying not to miss a beat. "It's Sam, right? That's what your brother called you. I'm not gonna ask again. Why did you pull over when you guys got to Beacon Hills?" Sam didn't move. "Someone tipped you off, didn't they?" Sam swallowed, careful to keep his face even. How was this kid getting this?

"That's what I thought. So you have two choices, Sam. You either tell me who or what tipped you off about Beacons Hills and what they said, or I leave this room and what happens next is out of my hands. And don't try lying. You may be good at it but not good enough." Sam's heart jumped when he saw a flash of gold eyes. "So what's it gonna be, amateur hunter?"

* * *

**If anyone is curious about the bit where Ana tells Dean he smells like a corpse, it's based on a bit of head-cannon. When Dean dies and goes to Hell and is brought back by Castiel, I feel like that would leave a permanent, physical imprint on him. Humans aren't meant to come back, but Dean and Sam keep getting second chances. Ana doesn't know why he smells that way underneath a normal human scent, but she's very suspicious and guesses correctly that letting Dean know he's not a normal human will mess with him. You can read it how you like, but I struggled with how to express this within the story itself, because I'm trying to stick with a limited 3rd person Winchester-based POV.**

**I wanted to show how Ana and Stiles differed in their techniques. Ana was told to keep watch while the rest of the pack finds out who the hunters are, not to question Dean. Stiles is told the same, but really when is Stiles ever able to sit quietly and wait? Both are able to extract information from the hunters, but in different ways. Ana catches on that this isn't Dean's first rodeo and understands he's trying to provoke her into blurting out something he can use against them later. Stiles though, realizes he can get Sam to talk by playing good cop initially, because Stiles isn't all that intimidating.**


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was startled when Ana suddenly stood up and dragged the chair she had been sitting in over to Dean's side. His mouth was still duct taped, so all he did was watch her in mild confusion. When the door opened once more, she moved over to the side, and watched as Dean saw Stiles lead Sam into the room followed by an older guy.

Dean wasn't sure which relieved him more, seeing Sammy or finally having another adult in the room. Sam sat down hard on the chair next to him and Stiles resecured him to the chair. Sam glanced over to check on his brother and sighed when he noticed the duct tape. Dean rolled his eyes in response, but gave an almost imperceptible nod to assure he was ok. The older guy looked over to Ana and a slight smile hinting at his mouth, "Ana," he nodded.

"Mr. Argent," Ana said nodding. Stiles heard both hunter's hearts skip a beat. He pretended not to notice the quick glance between the brothers.

"I'm here to relieve you of your burden, the Sheriff's on his way."

Ana grinned and moved to collect her calc homework, quickly packing everything away. "It'd be a shame if the Sheriff came in and found a suspect unable to respond to questioning, though," Chris Argent said when Ana and Stiles went to the door.

"Oh, right." Ana went over to Dean once more and reaching over, smiled playfully. "You now have permission to speak," she said and ripped off the duct tape. She turned, and as she left Dean heard her ask Stiles if he could help her with differentials.

Chris gave the brothers a measuring look before telling them the Sheriff will be in and turned to leave as well. Judging by the lack of footsteps, Dean knew he was standing just outside the door.

"Did she say Argent?" Sam whispered, trying to lean closer to Dean.

"Yeah…"

"I'm so confused."

Dean grunted, trying to shift in his binds. "What did you get? Who were you with?"

"The lanky kid, Stiles? He's one of them too." Sam rushed through the bewildering conversation and he admitted to being played.

"What are these kids? I mean, we were following a werewolf, how'd we get caught by-" Dean frowned, unable to finish the sentence in frustration.

"I think they're all werewolves," Sam said his tone grim with a hint of disbelief.

"But werewolves can only change during the full moon, Sammy. There are still four or five days until then. It's almost like these kids can do it whenever they want?" Dean hissed to Sam, who shook his head.

* * *

"Are you ok?" Stiles asked Ana as they sat next to each other at his dad's desk. Ana looked up, giving Stiles a small, reassuring smile. She nodded.

"I don't know why Derek insisted on putting you through that," Stiles said, frowning.

"You're not mad at him are you?"

Stiles leaned back and ran a nervous hand through his hair, "no, no. I know he has his reasons but…"

Ana gave him a gentle nudge to his shoulder and he smiled. "Good. Wouldn't want den-mama Stiles arguing with the co-alpha. The kids don't like it."

"Oh my god why is that even a thing?" Stiles groaned as he tipped back his chair.

Ana giggled, "because it's so true." Ana continued to smile as Stiles waved his arms dismissively, but she was remembering the conversation with Derek and Scott a few hours ago. It made her chest clench for a moment. It made sense. Derek was particularly insistent about it, about testing Stiles and herself.

When she was first coming to terms with being a werewolf, Ana did a lot of research on the lore behind them, as well as regular wolves. Her uncle was able to provide a plethora of sources, most of which turned out to be very informative. There were a lot of similarities in pack structure between lycanthropes and your run of the mill wolves. There were the alphas at the top, easy enough. Most werewolf packs tended to be small enough to be dominated by one alpha, but usually in nature there were alpha pairs. The Beacon Hills pack, Ana came to find, was rare in having not only two alphas, but that the alphas weren't a mated pair. Scott was in charge, but Derek was had a greater deal of experience. The size of their pack also made it more efficient to have two alphas.

But what if Derek or Scott or both were incapacitated? What if they had to leave or… Ana didn't want to think about the worst case scenario. An unstable pack was dangerous to themselves and anyone else in their wake. The Beacon Hills pack was becoming rather famous in certain unsavory circles, and Derek convinced Scott that a contingency plan was needed. Just in case.

Ana was surprised when her alphas took her aside and proposed the idea. Setting aside the fact that Stiles was Derek's boyfriend and Scott's brother, for all intents and purposes, they both thought that he was the best choice as a backup alpha. Stiles was spending a lot of time in the station lately, shadowing Deputy Parrish and his dad, the Sheriff. He was always the one coming up with plans and then running off to execute them, despite any risks to his own welfare. Ana nodded slowly in agreement with Derek and Scott, but asked why they were talking to her about this and not Stiles himself.

"I'll talk to him about it after this hunter's business. I want to see what he does," Derek said with a grave tone.

"What about the rest of the pack?" Ana continued, "there are two of you and thankfully only one Stiles." Ana took a deep, steadying breath. "And if something should ever happen, do you really expect Stiles to be able to hold himself up and the rest of the pack?"

Scott exchanged looks with Derek and shook his head. "You're too perceptive sometimes, Ana. We're just testing out the idea for now."

Ana chewed her lip, remembering the meaningful look Derek had given her. "What is it?" Stiles' voice brought her back to the present and she frowned.

"I can't figure out how Lydia got from here to here," Ana mumbled, tapping absently at her calc homework.

"Oh, yeah. She must've glossed over this part," Stiles thumped his chair back on all fours and took the pen from Ana and by the time Deputy Parrish waved them over, the problem was solved.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam and Dean's hushed conversation came to an abrupt halt as the door opened once more, revealing three new people. One of which was undoubtedly the Sheriff, and Dean huffed and rolled his eyes at the other two.

"What is this, high school werewolf mafia? In it with the cops? Please tell me this is a joke."

Derek heard Stiles on the other side of the door whisper to Ana they needed t shirts with that on it. Ana did that thing where she tried to stifle a laugh unsuccessfully, and Derek heard her swat his boyfriend. Derek suppressed the urge to smile and Scott, hearing it as well, but his lip to keep composure.

Sheriff Stilinski, however, was not amused. He pulled out the chair opposite of the hunters and sat down. The two alphas stood behind him on either side and didn't say anything as the hunters measured them up. Dean locked in on Derek. He was clearly a bit older than the other kids they'd seen so far, in his early twenties if Dean were to guess. He had to the leader if the Sheriff wasn't. The other kid was the same age as the others and Dean wasn't sure why he was here.

The Sheriff placed a folder on the table and opened it without saying a word. Sam wondered if he was human. He was older, his face a bit worn and hair salt and pepper. Sam gauged him to be a man who'd seen too much and carried more than he should have to, but wasn't about to crumple under any kind of pressure. Sam wasn't sure what to make of the quiet kid behind the Sheriff.

"Over the past three months, there have been five strange animal attacks, resulting in death, along the Californian coast," the Sheriff began, spreading out photos of the scenes on the table. Dean glanced to Sam. "All of these deaths occurred on the edge of urban centers, all missing various internal organs. Not too unusually for animal maulings. The most recent incident took place about 50 miles south of here, about a month ago," the Sheriff slid forward a photo of a young woman with her chest torn open and covered with blood.

Sheriff Stilinski saw the exchange of glances between the suspects. "Now you two wouldn't know anything about this would you?"

"Depends," Dean started, leaning back in his binds, "do these kids have anything to do with it?" Dean leaned back and whispered, "blink twice if you can't say anything now."

Sam noticed that neither of the younger men reacted to the accusations. Sometimes Sam wished Dean would come across a little less arrogant in these situations. The Sheriff was unamused. "Do you find the death of five people amusing, Dean Winchester?"

Dean's face fell. "That's what I thought." Sheriff Stilinski flipped open a larger file and pulled out two mug shots, one of Sam and one of Dean. "You two look pretty good for a couple of dead felons. So lets try this again. What do you two know about these attacks?"

A tense silence followed. Dean knew that these punks had them by the short curls and judging by the even expressions worn by both young men, they knew it. God, how is this even happening? The Winchesters had plenty of run ins with law enforcement, but after their 'deaths' managed to stay under the radar. Why was the police department so tight with a bunch of teen werewolves?

"We were hunting the werewolf up the coast," Sam said, breaking the silence.

"Sammy," Dean hissed, not taking his eyes off the three others in the room.

"But I'm sure you know that already. We were just following the trail up the coast and lost it briefly in Wells Spring. We're just trying to put a stop to whatever is killing those people."

The Sheriff gave Sam a measured look. Stiles had told him as much when his son briefed him moments ago. Sheriff Stilinski didn't need to be a werewolf to tell Sam was telling the truth, but not the whole truth. He glanced over his shoulder to Scott, who tilted up his head slightly to confirm the Sheriff's suspicions.

"What you may not know, Winchesters, is that a few hours ago a sixth body was found not too far from here." Dean grit his teeth and Sam's body tensed. "It hasn't hit the press yet but our department is investigating the mauling." Sheriff Stilinski flipped over the last photo in the first file and slid it out before the hunters. The sight made both Winchesters grimace, but Sam noticed something about the body.

"We don't think it is related, though. As you can see, this body was torn in half, and our coroner determined there were no missing organs." The Sheriff was reading another report. Dean was the first the recognize the young man with the shock of red hair. The witnesses they'd questioned at the other sites mentioned a strange guy with red hair lurking around their respective towns. "Animal Control believes it was a bear." The Sheriff collected the contents of the files and sorted them away. "I have some phone calls to make," Stilinski nodded to the two young men and left the room.

"That was-" Sam started off, slowly, but was cut off by Dean.

"That was the omega responsible for the deaths, yes," the older one said, his voice even.

"Omega?"

"Lone wolf. We'd been tracking his movements as well. We're not sure who turned him but it was recently," he answered, looking mildly surprised that the Winchesters didn't know even that much.

"Why'd you kill him?" Dean asked, tilting his head up and narrowing his eyes.

"He showed no inclination of controlling himself," the kid said, speaking up for the first time. "We tried to persuade him otherwise but he was too far gone."

"How do we know this isn't some kind of trick?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on the younger one.

"You don't, but given your circumstances it doesn't matter if you do or not," Derek responded.

A moment passed, Dean tried to wrap his head around the turn of events. He wanted to talk to Sam but didn't dare try with the other two present. What was with the younger kid anyways? It dawned on Dean slowly that maybe this kid was their way out.

"Listen," the kid started off, his voice casual. "Argent's heard of you two. From what he's gathered you two aren't the usual complete sociopaths hunters tend to be. We're willing to overlook you shooting Jackson, if you tell us who sent you here in the first place."

"Who sent us?" Dean scoffed, "we told you we were just tracking the werewolf-"

"Which you lost in Wells Spring. How'd you pick it back up again? Beacon Hill isn't exactly a straight shot from that town. So, I'll ask again. Who sent you?" Scott asked, his voice taking on a harsher tone, but his body radiated dangerous calm.

Sam closed his eyes with annoyance as Dean did the cocky 'or what' thing. Sam wished that short girl hadn't ripped off the duct tape.

"A number of things could happen. Sheriff Stilinski could make those phone calls and the feds could come and take you away. We could force it out of you," Scott said, his eyes flashing a deep red.

"Or we could kill both of you," Derek offered.


	7. Chapter 7

"It's Kate isn't it?" Stiles asked when Derek and Scott left the holding room.

Scott nodded and closed his eyes. "I thought so… their hearts skipped when they heard Argent," Stiles muttered frowning as his mind raced at the implications.

"We need to double the patrols. Everyone needs to check in more often," Derek said.

"Why couldn't she just stay dead. Is that even a thing? Why do people keep coming back?" Stiles let out a sigh and moved to stand next to Derek, leaning on him ever so slightly. He looked over to Scott and asked; "what are you gonna tell Chris and Allison?"

Indecision clouded Scott's expression while Stiles waited. It vanished as soon as Allison walked into the station, smiling in his direction as she handed something to her dad. "The truth," Scott said, smiling softly to the girl.

"God you're so sappy," Stiles said with a teasing smile. Derek raised his eyebrows and nudged his boyfriend, pulling in him in for a kiss on the cheek.

"You should talk," his whisper deep and husky.

"Stop that," Stiles said but made no move of following through with his demand. Derek smiled against Stiles' cheek.

"I hate to interrupt but what are we doing with the hunters?" Ana's soft voice broke the moment. She was sitting across the room, sitting with Lydia and Erica with her homework spread on a table.

Derek pulled away from Stiles and raised an eyebrow in question to his fellow alpha. "Well, we made a deal. We follow through with our end."

* * *

Deputy Parrish opened the door to the police cruiser, motioning for the Winchesters to step out. Dean stood up and looked around. It was early in the morning, they sky grey before the dawn. Sam slid out of the car and groaned a bit as he stood up. Dean let out a sigh of relief when he spotted the Impala on the shoulder of the road, facing the Beacon Hills town sign.

Behind the police cruiser a beat up blue Jeep pulled up followed by a sleek black Camaro. Derek, Scott, and Chris stepped out of the sports car. Stiles, Ana, Boyd, and judging by the intense glare the third kid gave Sam, Jackson were already waiting by the Jeep. Sheriff Stilinski stepped out of the driver's side of the cruiser.

The Sheriff, Chris, Scott, and Derek walked the Winchesters to the Impala and as the Sheriff unlocked the handcuffs, Scott spoke up. "You're leaving town immediately and if you ever come within 50 mile radius of Beacon Hills, we won't be generous a second time. I suggest you leave California for awhile." Dean rubbed his injured wrist and winced. Sam flexed his shoulders, eyes not leaving the two werewolves. "Understood?"

Sam nodded, ready to comply. Dean said nothing, his keys in hand and unlocking the Impala. Sam walked around to the passenger side and was about to get in when he saw Dean pause behind the open driver's side door. _Please don't say something stupid,_ Sam thought, clearing his throat.

"If you're a hunter, if your sister is alive and a hunter, why are you helping these kids?" Dean asked, addressing Chris.

"My sister died. I suggest you avoid whatever she's become," Chris responded, his voice heavy. A guilty look crossed Scott's face and Derek just glared at Dean coldly.

"Dean," Sam said, his voice a warning. "Let's just go," he whispered.

Dean frowned but started getting into the car. "Ana, good luck on that driving test," he called, throwing a smirk in her direction. The girl narrowed her eyes and flipped him off.

* * *

Dean sat down hard behind the wheel of the Impala as Sam slid in the other side. They just sat there for a second, Dean looking slightly bewildered and Sam rubbed a hand through his hair. It was Sam who broke the silence.

"Well… that was weird."

"You mean the part where a bunch of teen werewolves hunted us down, hogtied us like a bunch of amateurs, dragged us to a police station, interrogated us, and then told us to leave town?"

Sam frowned, nodded. "That would be the weird part yeah."

"So… what do we do now?" Dean asked, looking absently as the Beacon Hills town sign. Dean's gaze shifted when he saw movement by the blue Jeep. He saw Ana grin at him as she hopped behind the wheel of the Jeep and Stiles into the passenger side. When the engine started Jackson, Boyd, and Chris hustled out of the way. Dean's eyes went wide as the Jeep lurched forward and swerved around the police cruiser, screeched to a halt and sat there facing the Impala. Dean saw Stiles raised his eyebrows and smirk as Ana floored the accelerator. "Oh fuck no," Dean whispered as the Jeep lurched in their direction. He jammed the key into the ignition and threw the gear into reverse, peeling away with a roar.

* * *

**_Tada! The end is upon us, but worry not! Keep yours eyes out for Beacon Hills Werewolf Mafia Part Two: Return of the Winchesters (pending title). I really enjoyed writing this crossover and while it is pretty short, I thought it best to end it here. I should be focusing on Hunter's Moon, but this is just so much fun. Thanks for all the comments and kudos._**

**_Sam and Dean leave Beacon Hills with many questions, and in their search for answers find themselves in a new kind of trouble. Desperate, who will the brothers turn to? What is Kate Argent up to? Will Ana pass her driving test? Where did Derek and Scott go? Will I maintain my ability to update multiple times a day?!_**

**_Stay tuned for a possible sneak peek of part two sometime tomorrow._**


	8. Epilogue

Sheriff Stilinski sighed as he dropped his pen on the pile of paperwork on his desk. He used his free hands to rub his face and scratch an itch idly. He'd never admit it but even paperwork was preferable to trouble these days. He let the sounds of the station roll over him for a moment. It was Sunday, around 3:30, so it was fairly quiet. Sheriff Stilinski glanced at the two framed pictures sitting on the corner of his desk. One was of himself and Claudia at the hospital, his wife holding newborn Stiles. The other was far more recent, taken only two months ago. It was of Derek and Stiles. The older man was smiling into his son's hair, eyes closed and embracing Stiles, who was grinning like an idiot in love. It made the Sheriff smile softly and shake his head.

His phone rang, bringing him back to work. He picked it up, stating his usual introduction. "Sheriff Stilinski?" the male voice asked.

"Yes?"

The man on the other end hesitated, but after a moment continued: "This is Sam Winchester. I need your help."


End file.
